Incandescence
by usakeh
Summary: He was walking such a thin line, dancing between delusion and reality – but he was doing it brilliantly.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** This first chapter is an almost exact copy of another story I posted here, which is called "Shadows." Since I decided that this could – but would not necessarily have to – follow from that story, I am making it separate. All the chapters that follow this one are not present in "Shadows," of course, as that was a one-shot.

_It took a while for me to know, that I am not alone._

(In the Walls – stellastarr)

Detective Bobby Goren hated the slow way the hours slid by between midnight and three o'clock in the morning. Since age sixteen, he had not spent more than four hours a night sleeping; as a result he usually rested from three to seven o'clock in the morning. In fact, he found it near impossible to get to bed any earlier. He attributed this to a combination of force of habit and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of nervous energy.

Bobby did not mind his rather eccentric temperament, most of the time. His spectacular ability to pick out patterns was invaluable in his work; the rapidity with which he could connect ideas facilitated the solving of every single case; the same mix of alertness and anxiety that kept him awake helped him keep working for days straight.

Sometimes Bobby would find himself unable to articulate the exact way he saw the facts of the case flowing into each other. To him they wove and unwove themselves together in waves. Once one strand unraveled he just had to tug some more and they'd all spin their way free. His former partners had never understood this. They had looked at his maps and the papers piling up at his desk and frowned in frustration. They had sighed, exasperated, as he searched for the right words and struggled to keep his thoughts from crashing and colliding together. And, inevitably, every single one of them had filed transfer requests. He was impossible to work with, supposedly. He drove his partners mad.

Bobby used to have the deep suspicion that he, too, was mad. His partners certainly thought so. They couldn't understand his compulsions or why seemingly simple things confused him. They couldn't understand how he tried to communicate with them or how he solved cases. They couldn't understand _him_, at all. Had they known about his mother they would probably have shaken their heads and written him off for sure.

That was before he met Alexandra Eames. It didn't take long. Within a few weeks, they worked wonderfully together. She guided him, kept him stable, served as an interpreter between the twists and turns of his mind and the order needed by the outside world. The straightforward logic she employed steered him along as he navigated through swirls and spirals that seemed to spin themselves together, almost without his control. When she was out sick he always felt strangely lost, helpless.

Bobby slammed his book shut and got to his feet. He couldn't concentrate on reading. He flicked on the television; after skimming through various channels he hit the button again and watched the image fade to black. Pacing through his cramped apartment, he considered his options. He could go for a walk. He could make himself dinner. He could clean up the apartment. He could play solitaire. The tall detective sighed. He didn't want to go outside, as he felt strangely suspicious of every shadow. He didn't want to eat, as he wasn't hungry. He didn't want to clean up the apartment, as he felt far too disoriented to do a proper job of it. Bobby was a perfectionist. He'd rather have his apartment be a mess than try to clean it and not have it come out right. And he definitely didn't want to play solitaire.

Bobby stepped over to the window and stared out. It had just rained; water was dripping down the graying glass and sliding across the streets. Bobby had always liked the way light looked on rainy nights. When he looked closely enough he could see it scattering up out of the water and splitting into millions of tiny, brittle beams. The detective raised his hands and pressed them against the cool glass. There was no reason in the world why he of all people would need to worry about going for a walk out there. Nobody was going to hurt him; nothing was lying there in wait. So why did it feel so damn dangerous?

It would be better when the sun rose. It always was. He'd take the subway to work and step into the familiar building with the slightly tilted sign (which, one of these days, he was going to straighten) and stride up to his desk and sit down across from Alex. Alex would smile at him; everything would be just as it should be. When Alex was around the world was solid. It was only at night that shapes blended into the shadows until the shadows themselves started to seem real. Sometimes Bobby wondered whether or not the feeling of fluidity he got when he looked about him was normal. But he had nothing to compare it to, and he could never quite explain it.

He didn't even notice it most of the time, actually. It was only when it was late or particularly intense that he became aware of how acutely alert he really was to his surroundings. He could see every detail; he could hear every little noise; he could feel the way the fabric of his clothing brushed against his skin as he walked. Once when Alex had asked him what the matter was he had paused for almost a minute, trying to think of a way to say it. For some reason only one phrase filled his anxious mind. He had wanted to say that he wished they could turn down the sun.

But he'd shaken his head and said that everything was fine, instead. Alex had cast him a curious glance; he'd sighed and stepped out of the car and gone back to work. He had wanted them to turn down the sun. Bobby went back to the sofa and sat down heavily. It was midnight now. Why did everything still seem so bright?

Bobby got up, strode over to the door, and turned off the lights. Save for the faint glow of a neon sign from across the street the room was dark. The detective sighed again. It was when he had to turn off the lights that the way he thought would start to scare him. There were too many ideas in his mind, all fighting for his attention. Each was at once incoherent and incredibly significant, and he had the sudden urge to run out into the street and start speaking to the first stranger he could find.

Bobby sometimes wondered what would happen if it just didn't stop, one night. As it was the feeling came and went. It was part of him. During his workday he'd find himself drawing on it once and again. During his workday he found himself needing it. During the night he felt as though it was an alien being that needed him. Bobby began pacing again. He could always go for a walk. He could always make himself dinner. He could always clean up the apartment. He could always–

–call Alex.

Bobby leaned towards the digital clock shining out from the microwave in the kitchen. It was almost two o'clock. Alex was probably sleeping.

Still, Bobby glanced back at the phone. Maybe she'd still be awake. Maybe they could just talk, for a while. He could explain everything. She could speak and he could listen to her voice and his surroundings would solidify again, the shadows fading into stillness.

Sometimes Bobby couldn't help but wonder whether or not he was going to end up with full-fledged schizophrenia, just like his mother. He'd read book after book about it. He'd done his research, as if the careful reasoning of the scholar could keep him safe.

But Bobby knew that he wasn't like his mother. Her world closed in around her, making the one he inhabited flicker and fade away. His experience couldn't be more different. The outside world never left him; instead, it burst to light in brilliant color every single second of the day and most of the night. It overwhelmed him. His mother had slowed down, stopped. Her only actions were in response to a reality she'd constructed exclusively for herself. Her hysteria would happen when her world and the one the rest of humanity inhabited crashed together, collided. Bobby sometimes suspected that he was the same way. Deep down, however, he knew that he couldn't be more wrong.

He wasn't removed from the world. He was closer to it than anybody else he knew. The connection could become almost direct at times, as if he was tapping into a deep, intrinsic energy. It was thrilling, almost as if his blood burned with an inexplicable sort of electricity. All he wanted was to be able to turn it down, yet he knew he couldn't. It was like trying to turn down the sun.

Bobby shook his head and spoke softly to himself, his whispers widening out into the empty room.

Then he strode over to the table by the window and picked up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

_How about if I broke the silence first, could I hear what you're thinking, in your head?_

(Phone Call – The Faint)

"Hello?" Alex's voice was muffled, sleepy. Bobby felt frustration flood through him. He shouldn't have called. Who called in the middle of the night? Alex needed to sleep. They had a lot of work to do. They had criminals to chase, evidence to examine, reports to file. He could never stand filing reports. Alex always had to redo it for him anyway; he'd never been any good at filling out forms. "Hello? Who's this?"

"Eames?" Bobby heard his partner let out a long, slow sigh.

"Bobby, it's two o'clock in the morning." Her voice was sharpening with exasperation. "Couldn't whatever it was have waited until tomorrow?" Bobby paused. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn't even know what he needed to tell her. He just needed to speak to her, to hear her voice. He just needed to see the world solidify again. But how could he possibly explain that?

"I didn't – I didn't think that you'd be asleep." Bobby had heard plenty of terrible lies and excuses in his time; it came with the profession. He was well aware, however, that the sentence he had just said could very well be the worst. Alex sighed again.

"Right, because it's not normal to be asleep at two o'clock in the morning." Bobby could picture her wry grin perfectly. He loved it when she looked at him with that expression. It made him feel like they were sharing a secret together. "Bobby, do you _ever _sleep? I mean, you _are _human, aren't you?" Bobby would have laughed, but he couldn't quite manage it this time. Instead he just started pacing again, one hand clutching the cordless phone as he walked. "Bobby?" This time he sighed. "What is it?"

"I – I don't know." The words were building up within him like water pushing at the edges of a dam. He had so much to say, and so little time to say it in.

"Is everything all right?" Alex was polite, solicitous, concerned.

"Yes, yes it is." It was, wasn't it? There was nothing wrong. He was just imagining it. "Do you want to start working early?" He spoke without thinking. Of course she wouldn't want to start working at two o'clock in the morning. He did, though. At least at work he would know what he was supposed to think about. The extraneous thoughts would be gone, erased by the easy back-and-forth of the interrogation room.

"Bobby, are you all right?" Alex seemed more worried now.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You just asked me whether I wanted to start working at two o'clock in the morning!"

"I know. I did. I – I didn't mean that, though. I meant something else. I don't really know what I meant." Great, now he was rambling. That was definitely going to reassure her, no doubt. "I just wanted to talk to you. I really wanted to talk to you. It's – it's as if I have to tell you something and for some reason I can't recollect what it is, but I still have to tell you."

"Bobby." There was a long pause. "Bear with me here. I just woke up. But what the heck are you talking about?" Bobby strode over to the window and slammed his fist down on the side of the table. It would be better if he just hung up before he said anything even stupider. There was no way she could understand, anyway; there was just no way he to articulate it.

"I'm not sure." Bobby frowned. Maybe she'd just go back to sleep and think that it was all a bad dream. Maybe she'd forget about it entirely. That would be nice. "I think I'm too awake. Is it possible to be too awake? Because I think that that's – that's what I am right now. Too awake."

"Too awake? Bobby, have you been sleeping lately? At all?"

"Yes. Sometimes. Not very much. I don't usually sleep very much but now I want to and I'm simply too awake, which – which doesn't – which doesn't seem to make any sense, logically, but – do you want to go somewhere?" There it was. Another completely random question. Where would they go, anyway? There was no place to go.

"Where do you want to go?" She was humoring him, wasn't she? She probably thought he'd gone off the deep end. That was just what he needed. Alex was the only partner he'd ever had that actually trusted him and now she was going to think he was crazy.

"I don't know. Anywhere. We could go driving. You could drive, that is. We could go on the freeway."

"All right." Alex's tone confused Bobby; he couldn't tell whether she was annoyed, anxious, or just plain tired. "Do you want me to pick you up?" Bobby could not have described the relief he felt at hearing her question. Alex always picked him up. It was familiar. It was the right thing to do. It was just like work.

"Yes." She'd be there soon; she wouldn't be more than five minutes. Bobby sat back down on the sofa and stretched. "Yes," he repeated. "that would be nice. Thank you."

"I'll be there soon." Never one to waste words, Alex slammed down the phone. Back in his apartment, Bobby rubbed his eyes and looked around again. The streets seemed safer already.


	3. Chapter 3

_And there's so much at stake, I can't afford to wait._

(Temptation Waits – Garbage)

She knocked twice. Bobby sprang to his feet at once and strode over to the door; a moment later Alexandra Eames was standing inside his apartment. Smiling, she shook her head slightly and then yawned, stretching her arms out as if she had just woken up. Bobby considered her carefully, tilting his head to the side. There were shadows below her eyes and she looked sleepy; still, her eyes were bright. She didn't look angry at him for calling her, either. That was good.

"Hey there." Alex walked over to face her partner, her tone light, cheerful. "It's nice to see you again so bright and early in the morning," she continued sarcastically. "What's up?"

"Not much." Bobby stared back down at her, eyes alight. It wasn't frightening anymore, now that she was here; instead, the nervous tension that had so troubled him before immediately transformed itself straight into a tremendous, almost electric excitement. They were going to go driving. They were going to go driving, Bobby thought to himself, and they were going to be able to watch the car headlights stream down the streets until they formed a long river of light. He had always found the sight interesting, but as he considered it now he would have sworn it was transcendent. "Are we going to go?"

"Sure," Alex replied, watching as he headed for the closet and pulled out his winter coat. She was glad she had come. He'd sounded so strangely confused over the phone; between that and his behavior at work lately, she'd been scared on her way up to the apartment. Alex glanced at him again, sighing. He was slowly buttoning his coat, eyes glimmering. She'd had no reason to be worried. He seemed fine – excited, even. Alex brushed back her hair, zipping her jacket all the way up. "You ready?" Bobby nodded in response.

"Let's go." After pulling on a hat, he hurried over to the door and held it open for his partner.

"Thanks." Alex strode out of the apartment, waiting for Bobby to quickly lock the door before following him down the stairs to the lobby. Save for a single security guard, the place was deserted. Outside, the streets shone slick with rain under the streetlights. Bobby swung open the door once again, holding it until his partner walked through. Alex shivered. "Damn, it's cold out here."

"What?"

"Never mind." She watched as Bobby scanned the street for the car. "Over there," she added, pointing him in the right direction. Alex watched as he hurried up to the car. Bobby usually moved slowly. Except when he sensed danger, he was usually content to walk a few steps behind her, his gait uneven, awkward. Lately, he'd been taking the lead. Alex smiled. The way he ran up to the car reminded her of her nephew.

"Let's go, let's go." Bobby leaned against the car, waiting for Alex to unlock the door. He didn't want to be outside. Tonight, every sound seemed surprisingly loud; every movement felt vaguely threatening. Bobby tilted his head, scanning the street. Except for the cars that occasionally cruised through the nearest intersection, they were alone. The apartment windows were dark, their shades drawn down; only a few were illuminated by the glow of computer screens and television sets.

"Bobby?" In an instant, the tall detective whirled around.

"Eames!" Bobby felt his heart thudding in his chest. Lately, he'd come to hate unexpected noises. That's why he usually stayed in the apartment with all the lights off. There was nothing unexpected, that way; he was in control.

"Who else would it be?" Alex opened the door. "So, ready?" Alex climbed into the driver's seat; Bobby slid into the seat beside her and slammed the door shut. "All right, then." Alex turned the key in the ignition; the car coughed out a cloud of exhaust. Bobby watched as his partner spun the steering wheel around and slammed down on the accelerator. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

_Colors brighter than I've ever seen, more wired than I've ever been._

(Wonderful Way to Go – New Model Army)

"You wanted to go on the highway, right?" Bobby nodded eagerly, wondering why it was that he felt so strangely impatient with Alex's driving. Usually, he liked his partner's driving. It was certainly better than his. Tonight, though, she simply didn't seem to be moving fast enough. "Bobby?" Alex was turning left, slowing as she neared a Burger King. "Do you mind if I pick up a cup of coffee? You may not need to sleep, but I'm a little tired here."

"Okay." The tall detective leaned back against his seat. Alex hopped out of the car and hurried in; a few moments later she returned, two cups of coffee in hand. Bobby leaned over and opened the door.

"I brought you one. Want it?" Alex climbed back in, sipping at her drink. "Ah, that's better."

"No thanks." Bobby shook his head. He hadn't been drinking much coffee lately; it'd started to have a very strange effect on him. "You can have it."

"All right." Alex pulled out of the parking lot, giving her partner one more quick glance. He was acting as if there was nothing unusual at all about calling someone in the middle of the night and expecting them to go out for a drive, wasn't he? She sighed. Bobby was eccentric, but he wasn't entirely oblivious. Not usually, anyway. "So," she asked at last, "why the drive?"

"I don't know," Bobby replied after a long pause. "I've always liked going on the highway." Bobby began tapping his finger against the car window. What else was he supposed to say? There was no way he could explain it; there was just no way. He sighed heavily. He at once wanted her to inquire further and desperately hoped she'd stay silent. It didn't make any sense. It just didn't make any sense.

"Is everything okay, Bobby?" Alex slowed for a moment, turning towards him.

"It's fine, it's fine." Bobby's eyes narrowed. Why was it that he could never articulate anything? Language seemed always insufficient, somehow. His thoughts came too quickly; his words were like a camera trying to capture a speeding train and coming out blurred, useless. "Alex? Do you want me to drive?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"You want to drive?"

"No. I mean, you seem tired. And you're going sort of slow." Alex checked the speedometer.

"Bobby, we're not even on the highway yet and I'm already over the speed limit here." Alex frowned, flicking on her turn signal and heading for the entrance ramp. "Once we get on the highway we'll speed up." Bobby nodded. "How fast do you want me to go, anyway?" Her partner shrugged, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"I don't know. It's okay. It doesn't matter." Finally, Alex accelerated. Bobby felt himself start to relax. They slid onto the highway, water flying up out of the puddles on the side of the road as they sped through them. Bobby watched the droplets on the window trace out patterns down the graying glass; then he turned and focused his gaze on the flashes of light flaring up and fading in the opposite lane. It was almost as if the light waves were weaving themselves together, forming a patchwork, a pattern. "You know," he began, "I was reading about Special Relativity the other day."

"Yeah?" Did Alex sound aggravated? Bobby tilted his head, watching her; a moment later he continued.

"I mean, it's fascinating. This is a classic example. Nothing can go faster than the speed of light. Newtonian mechanics would posit that you should simply add the two velocities. Of the light and our car, that is. The light coming off of our car." Alex sped up and switched into the other lane. "It's not like that, though. You have time dilation. I'm sure you've heard of it, but it's really even more interesting when you apply the actual formulae and work out the details. The other night I was–"

"Bobby, how in the _world _do you find _time _for this?" Bobby paused. A moment later he slammed his fist down on the dashboard. "Bobby?"

"I don't know! I just – I just – I forgot what I was saying." Bobby felt his thoughts spiraling out again. He liked to think about physics, sometimes. There was something so clean and clear about it. Now everything was colliding again; the confusion was coming back.

"You were saying something about Special Relativity."

"Oh. That's right." Bobby rubbed his forehead. "I was doing some research the other night. On Special Relativity. The calculations. The way they figure it out is they calculate gamma, which is one over the square root of one minus – one minus the velocity of – of the object divided by the speed of light squared." Bobby turned to stare at Alex, waiting for her response.

"I see." Alex passed the car in front of her and swerved back into the other lane. She was probably just about the only detective in the force that would ever be stupid enough to agree to take her partner out driving in the middle of the night. Then again, she was also the only detective in the force lucky enough – or unlucky enough, depending on the circumstances – to be paired up with Bobby Goren. Bobby was a good guy. He could just be a bit tiring, that was all. Alex moved her hand towards the radio, preparing to search for a good station. Just as she did so, however, a gust of freezing air flooded into the car and hit her in the face.

"Bobby, what are you doing?" She glanced over towards him. He'd rolled down the window all the way and was holding his hand out against the wind. This was the sort of behavior she expected from her nephew! "Close the window! It's freezing!"

"Oh." After a pause, Bobby complied. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. It's just kind of cold out." Alex shivered. What was with him, anyway? Alex frowned. He'd been acting a bit uncharacteristically for a while, in fact. He'd get distracted in the middle of investigating evidence and giving case reports. He'd talk at great length about completely random and unrelated topics. He'd come up with theories that were farfetched even by his standards. Alex snuck another glance at him. If it hadn't been for the way he'd sounded on the phone, she probably wouldn't even have stopped to think about it. But now…

"Do you like highways?" It took Alex a while to register the fact that Bobby had gone on speaking.

"What?"

"Do you like highways? I think they're rather underappreciated from – from an aesthetic point of view. The lights, you know. It's like the bridges. And the city itself, really. The George Washington is really the most beautiful, though." Bobby pointed ahead, gesturing at the glowing outline of the George Washington Bridge. "There's something – there's something stunning about the symmetry. Then think about all the people going by. If the average speed on the bridge is – is around–"

"Bobby, I'm really too tired to do math right now. All these numbers are going to give me a headache." Alex attempted a wry grin and then turned on the radio. "Want to listen to music while we drive? Bobby?" She could have sworn he flinched as the sound flooded into the car. Hurriedly, she turned it down. "Too loud?"

"No. It just – it just surprised me."

"Want me to turn it off?"

"No, no. Do you have any other music? Not the radio, I mean." Alex nodded.

"There's a case in the glove compartment." There was a click; a moment later Bobby pulled it out. Alex sighed, wondering what he'd make of her music collection. She'd always had a weakness for ABBA and Madonna; Bobby, on the other hand, liked classical music.

"How about this?" Bobby handed her a brightly colored disk. She glanced at it.

"Dance Hits 2000?" Alex laughed. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm not disputing your decision here, but I'm not sure this is really–"

"No, no. I like it."

"Okay," Alex replied, shrugging and putting in the disc. "I guess we can always change it," she added, adjusting the volume as the beat came booming into the back of the car. She never would have guessed that her partner loved to listen to dance music, of all things! Taking a deep breath, she concentrated back on the road, slowing to round a curve.

"It sounds like crystals."

"What?" The music had gotten quite loud. The baseline was pounding its way right into her skull. "Bobby, turn it down, will you?"

"What?"

"TURN IT DOWN!" The volume decreased slightly. Alex sighed. "That's better. What did you say?"

"I was talking about the music. It sounds like crystals. I like the sound." Bobby turned it up again, following the music with his mind. He'd first found out how much he enjoyed that sort of music one night when he was wandering about and heard it streaming out of a club. Curious, he'd gone in and simply sat there, watching as the others swayed and spun themselves around. There was something calming about the way the rhythms repeated themselves, appearing and reappearing yet never staying exactly the same. The music was fast-paced too. He'd needed that. "Alex?" The car was slowing down. What was she doing? "Alex?" She didn't answer. She was pulling over to the side. Bobby frowned. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. Finally, he felt her arm reach out towards the radio. The sound of the music disappeared; silence swelled out into the car.

"Bobby, you can't play it that loud!" Alex rested her head in her hands. "Bobby." She raised her head slowly, turning towards him. "Bobby, I'm not really sure this is such a good idea." She took a deep breath. "I think you need to get some sleep, as do I." Maybe he just hadn't been sleeping enough. That could account for his behavior. Couldn't it? She sighed.

"Why?" To his surprise, Bobby didn't feel frustrated. He just felt scared, somehow. "Do we have to?" His voice sounded small in the stillness. "I'm not tired. I can't sleep. I'm not tired." Alex pressed a button, turning on a small light. He felt her eyes upon him.

"I think you're overtired." Alex paused. "Bobby. You have to tell me, okay? Is anything the matter?" Bobby felt his chest tighten uncomfortably.

"No." Yes, yes, yes. "No. I don't know. Maybe."

"You were saying something to me on the phone, remember?" Alex spoke quietly. She was afraid of being condescending. No matter what was happening, her partner didn't deserve to be talked down to. That would be the worst insult of all.

"I guess." Bobby sighed, trying to reel in his racing thoughts. "I don't know. I can't sleep and I'm just – I'm – I'm kind of – kind of thinking too fast. I keep thinking things and then forgetting what they were." He closed his eyes for a second. "I can't drink coffee anymore. I feel like I've already drank coffee, all the time. Too much coffee." Alex was sitting up straight, listening attentively. "It's okay most of the time. It's okay. I just – got scared. Or nervous. I thought – I thought if – I don't know." His voice was starting to shake. "It's not what you think. I don't think so. I'm not like her. It's different. It's different, right? I'm okay. I just – it's strange. I can't–"

"It's okay." Alex spoke steadily, trying to hide her increasing concern. At least he noticed it, too. That was a good sign, wasn't it? "It's okay. It'll be okay." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him, convince herself, or do both at the same time. If only she knew more about psychology. At the moment, the only conclusion she could come to was that Bobby had to speak to somebody – somebody who could really reassure him that what he feared most wasn't true. Alex took a deep breath. What did she know about schizophrenia? She'd read a book about it, some years ago; it'd been lying about in a bookstore and she'd bought it on impulse. If she remembered correctly, it stated that schizophrenia's defining characteristic was that it caused those affected by it to become delusional, to hallucinate. Schizophrenics would then slowly start to withdraw from reality until they lived almost completely in worlds of their own invention. She turned towards Bobby again. Thinking too fast? Too much coffee? Scared, nervous? He wasn't acting like someone withdrawing from the world, as far as she could tell. He was acting like someone on amphetamines. He'd wanted her to drive faster. He'd turned the music up so loud she couldn't stand it and hadn't even been the slightest bit bothered by it, though she knew very well that his hearing was just fine. "And I think you're right," she added at last. "I don't think it's that. I don't know much, of course. But I don't think–"

"She wasn't like this." Bobby was tapping against the window again. "I'm not schizophrenic. I – I'm not." He stirred in his seat. Everything was blurring together. It wasn't good. He knew that. But he wasn't like her. He wasn't. "Alex? Could we drive again?"

"Sure." She pulled back onto the highway, noting the way he calmed slightly as she sped up. He was restless, she realized. Bobby had always been one to move about, but lately he'd been more agitated than usual. He could hardly sit still. "Bobby." He turned towards her. "How long has – how long has this been going on for?"

"Not sure. I've – I've always been kind of – kind of like this. Just not as much." Bobby pulled off his sweater. He was sweating like mad, for some reason. He paused.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone?" What would she tell them, anyway? "Not if you don't want me to. But – you know – you–"

"I will."

"When?"

"I don't know. I – I guess – soon."

"Do you know anyone?" Bobby nodded.

"My mother's doctor talks to me sometimes. I mean, just general stuff. But we – we get along." Alex nodded.

"That's good. When are you going to go down there?"

"I don't know. I didn't go see her. I haven't gone recently. I – I couldn't. I – I was afraid." Alex considered her words carefully.

"Do you want me to drive down with you?" It was the least she could do. Hopefully he wouldn't find the offer intrusive…

"If you want." Bobby paused. "I – I would appreciate that," he added, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes again. They stung from lack of sleep. "What about the case?"

"What about it?" Alex paused. Secretly, she sort of wished he'd just take the rest of the week off. Even before his decision to drive around in the middle of the night, she'd already been worried. Most likely, Deakins was concerned, too. If he kept showing up for work like this, he'd start asking questions. But what else could she tell him to do? At least if he was with her she could look out for him, couldn't she? Besides, he was still a good detective. When he was concentrating his flashes of insight were more brilliant than ever. He just had trouble with some things. That was all. And that's where she could help him. Just in case, though, it was probably best to give him the opportunity to back out. "If you feel that you need some time off," she said at last, "that's fine."

"No!" Bobby sat up, his voice sharp with sudden agitation. "No, I can't!" Alex immediately regretted having asked. "Eames, you don't understand! You don't understand. This doesn't make sense!"

"I know." Bobby felt her hand reach out towards his. Alex had thin, elegant hands. Slowly, he extended his hand in return. They were connected, now. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes once again. "I know, Bobby. It doesn't make sense." Alex paused, trying her best to summon up some more confidence. "I think it will get better, though. I think it will."

And, in the darkness, she could have sworn she could feel him smile, just a little.


	5. Chapter 5

_Everything looks perfect from far away, come down now, but we'll stay._

(Such Great Heights – The Postal Service)

Alex yawned. She'd been waiting in the car for over two hours now. She'd brought along a cheap paperback and a bunch of forms to fill out, but she just hadn't been able to focus on them. She'd flipped through the radio stations for a while, only to find that almost every song annoyed her. She rolled down the window for a second, letting the cool air stream in. She'd considered going for a walk. If Bobby was as nervous when he walked out as he'd been on the way, though, he'd probably panic if she wasn't there. He'd already done that once, when she'd startled him by letting herself into his apartment. He'd had the music on so loud she couldn't hear her knock.

Alex rubbed her eyes. It was Saturday, thankfully. On Friday Deakins had pulled her aside, asking her if she was all right. She'd nodded. She was fine, she'd said, just a bit tired. Neither of them had mentioned Bobby. She knew that Deakins had been waiting for her to say something, but she'd just sat there silently until he'd told her to get back to work. There just wasn't any way she could have explained it to him. She didn't really know what was wrong; all that mattered was that he was getting help from somebody who would. So long as he was doing that, his secret was safe with her.

If anything, Bobby was the one to ask. He probably wouldn't take kindly to being confronted, but if Deakins was careful it'd be fine. It would be better than what would happen if he realized she'd gone and spoken to their commanding officer behind his back. Alex shook her head. She didn't like having to think of her partner that way; she didn't like having to worry whether what she did would somehow trigger him into getting that wild, angry look in his eyes. She knew he'd never hurt anybody. He couldn't. She'd seen him destroy things; when she'd walked into his apartment in the morning there was broken glass all over the floor. But he wouldn't hurt anybody else. At worst he'd hurt himself.

Alex checked her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. How long could it take them, anyway? Alex peered down the street. She could always drive down to the nearest deli and buy some sandwiches; neither of them had eaten lunch, yet. She nervously turned on the radio, fiddled with the dial, and turned it off again. There was no use worrying now. There was nothing she could do, at the moment, except wait. Just as she was about to release the brake, though, she saw a tall shape come stumbling down the path towards her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the key out, preparing to step out of the car. There was no reason to be afraid. Nothing had changed. If anything, it would be better. It would…

A moment later, Alex was walking towards him. She tried to get a reading on his expression. Was he relieved? Sad? Scared? Angry? To her dismay, she couldn't even make it out. He seemed a bit calmer now; that was good. He wasn't angry; that was also good. Alex was beside him now. It was probably best to let him talk about it when he was ready to. She wouldn't ask any questions, no matter how desperately she wanted to stop worrying about it.

"Hey." Bobby was staring out towards the car. "So, want to pick up some lunch at the deli? I'm kind of hungry."

"Okay." Alex smiled, climbing back into the car. Once he joined her she pulled out of the parking lot.

"What do you want?" Bobby shrugged.

"I'm – I'm not really hungry. Anything's fine."

"All right. You better not complain if I get you something you don't like, though." Alex slowed as they reached the deli, parked the car, and hopped out again. Sighing, Bobby watched her disappear into the store. It hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. His mother's doctor, Corinne, had always been kind to him. She'd asked him about his work every time he came, claiming to have an interest in criminal psychology. After giving her the highlights, he'd always go in to see his mother. He'd stop and say goodbye to her on the way out. This time it had been a bit different. On the way, he'd been worried about how he'd bring up the subject. He didn't usually say much about his personal life; in fact, he'd rarely said anything about it at all. They'd just stuck to speaking about his cases. That was all.

She'd noticed pretty quickly, though. He hadn't really had to say anything. Instead, she'd led him into a small, quiet room. She'd asked him questions; he'd answered them as best he could. It hadn't been hard. Bobby stared out towards the street, watching as Alex strode out of the deli, shivering. It was a clear day, clear and bitterly cold. Bobby kind of liked it that way, but Alex had never been a fan of winter weather.

"Here you are." Alex opened the door, handed him a paper bag, and jumped back up into the driver's seat.

"Thanks." Bobby pulled out a bottle of water and hurriedly drank it down. He wasn't hungry, just thirsty.

"So, where to?" Alex turned towards the highway. "Back to your apartment?" Bobby nodded.

"Thanks for – thanks for taking me."

"No problem. It was either this or watching Saturday morning cartoons." She grinned. Alex brushed back her hair.

"I guess." Bobby paused, shifting restlessly in his seat. "I don't want to take time off." Alex took a deep breath. She'd take it step-by-step.

"Who said you had to take time off?"

"Corinne."

"So you spoke to her?" Could she have asked a stupider question? Of course Bobby had spoken to her; that was why he'd gone in the first place.

"Yeah." Bobby rolled down the window for a second, letting some air in. He didn't know why he was finding it so difficult to explain. Now at least he was sure. He had suspected – but it was relieving to know, in a way, even if it wasn't good news. "She wants to keep seeing me. She says we can talk when I come to visit."

"Okay."

"Alex." He never called her Alex. It was always Eames. "I'm afraid I'm going to – to lose my job."

"No, no. You're not. You're one of the–"

"Alex, I'm bipolar. Manic-depressive. I'm going to have to be on medication for this and I _know _what that stuff does to you and – and I just – I mean, I suspected it but it's different when you know for sure." Bobby took a deep breath. "I don't know. I don't _know_, Alex!" He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "And I suppose – I suppose I should – I should be happy that I'm not going to be locked up all my life like her because this isn't like that, not usually, but–"

"It's okay." Alex interrupted him, her words spoken softly but firmly. "You have a right to be angry about this." He was tapping against the window again. "I would be angry, too."

"I'm going to lose my job." Alex slowed down, switching into the other lane.

"No, you're aren't. You're going to ask for some time off. You're going to get better and you're going to come back and you're going to keep being my partner." She could sense how restless he was. "Do you want to stop for a while?" She paused. "There's a really nice place to walk nearby. I've been there with my nephew a few times. It's a loop that goes around a pond. It's kind of cold, but if we walk quickly we'll be fine."

"The wildlife preserve?" Alex nodded. "I go there a lot." She wasn't surprised.

"Feel like showing me around, then? I only know the basic path. There are more, I think."

"There are – there are lots more. I'll show them to you." Alex made a sharp turn, taking the car up the path to the preserve. Bobby paused. "You aren't going to switch partners, then?" Alex sighed.

"You shouldn't even have to ask."


	6. Chapter 6

_You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug._

(The Perfect Drug – Nine Inch Nails)

"Want to stop for a moment?" Bobby turned around. They had been walking for almost an hour, and they had just made it to the top of the hill overlooking the icy pond. This was Bobby's favorite place in the entire preserve. Standing at the edge of the cliff, the whole park spread out below him; at times, he felt almost as if he could sweep it all up into the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath. Most people didn't know it, but there was a very thin line between extreme anxiety and euphoria. In an instant, the most gorgeous feeling of transcendence could become terror; just as quickly, fear could blossom into something shatteringly sublime. Bobby stretched, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "Bobby?" Carefully, he stepped back from the edge of the cliff.

Craziness, he realized, comes in many forms. Most people thought of it as something stark. They believed that there was a line of demarcation. On one side, the sane were reasonable, rational; on the other, the insane shouted wildly into the wind and spoke to things that were not really there. It wasn't like that, though. There was a spectrum. Bobby felt his thoughts come together suddenly, crystallizing until absolutely everything seemed spectacularly clear. The connections were all obvious. He smiled, sitting down in the cold grass and then leaning back until he was staring straight up at the sky.

"Bobby?" Alex was behind him, somewhere. For a moment, Bobby wanted nothing more than to share the splendor he saw before him with her, to make her see what he saw in the world.

"Look," he said, sitting up and pointing down towards the frozen lake, which glittered back at him in the sun. "Look, Alex."

"Nice view." Bobby lay back down again. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, really, when there were moments like this. It wasn't a nice view. It was tremendous. The trees, the wind, the ice shimmering in the sunlight – it was all so very _alive_. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered some of Corinne's questions. Do you ever feel euphoric, even when nothing particularly good has happened? Yes. Do colors seem brighter to you? Yes. Are you more sensitive to sound? Yes. He had looked at her carefully, considering. Even the shadow of the feeling could bring a smile to his face; the feeling itself was incomparable. It bathed the world in incandescence.

Beside him, Alex was shivering. She watched her partner, perplexed. She'd seen this reaction before, in him. It had just never been so complete. Forget about amphetamines, she thought; she'd seen the same look on the faces of junkies high on heroin or cocaine. She stared down towards the icy lake, wondering what he was experiencing. At least it was something good; she knew that much. In the car he'd been nervous, restless, confused; once he started walking, something had changed. All the way up, he'd spoken to her, shifting from one topic to another. It was dizzying, really. Some of it was nonsense; some of it was brilliant. By the time she got to the top of the hill she found she could barely distinguish between the two. It was overwhelming.

"Alex?" He was sitting up again. He tilted his head slightly, and then took off his jacket. "Take it. I'm not cold." He was even sweating.

"You sure?" He nodded, and Alex huddled underneath the oversized coat. "Thanks."

"I could stay here forever." Bobby gestured out towards the scene below him.

"I can tell," Alex replied. She smiled, gently. His moods changed so fast; sometimes it was hard to know how to respond.

"I'm going to miss this."

"We can always come back, Bobby."

"No, no. I don't mean that." He paused. "This feeling. Usually I'm – I'm only too energetic. Wired. Like too much coffee. Sometimes everything becomes confusing. I am thinking too many things at the same time and nothing makes sense. They all collide; there is no clarity."

"And now?"

"Perfect clarity." Bobby stretched again. "Everything comes together. Perfect. Crystalline. It's as if – as if I can see the entire world, and it all – it all has a pattern – and I'm connected to it somehow, connected directly. I'm – I'm not religious. But if I was – and I thought that there was one – I'd be close to it."

"It?"

"God." Bobby grinned. "It's not like – I don't think he's talking to me or anything." That was good to hear, Alex thought. "It's funny. I mean, I took psych courses. I know this stuff. And I can think, at some level, that this is just – it's just brain chemistry, going wrong somehow. Not always. But sometimes." Alex nodded. "Yet at the same time – it's double vision. If I get too angry or confused or – or even this feeling – then I lose that. I lose that – that second – you know." Bobby got to his feet and began pacing. "This makes it all worth it. I could write you a novel, just now. I could tell you everything! It's so right, so connected. I feel like I could jump, now, and I wouldn't fall. I'd just stay, suspended somehow – I'd never hit the ground. It belongs to me." Alex stood up and strode over to him.

"No jumping, though." He grinned.

"I know." He shook his head. "See? It's harmless. I'd never do something like that. I want to but I won't do it." Alex moved closer to him. Sure, it was fine now. But what if there was a day when he forgot, when he lost that double-vision, as he called it? What if she wasn't there? Then what? Still, she said nothing. It wasn't worth arguing with him right now. It was good to hear him speak about what he felt. Hearing descriptions was not the same as understanding, but it was something.

"Thank you for explaining this to me, Bobby." He paused his pacing for a moment.

"Explaining? Oh. I suppose. Anytime, really." He laughed. "I don't know why I was so scared that you'd be mad at me before. That's why I couldn't tell you. I thought you'd be mad at me, because I was mad at her."

"No, I'm not mad at you. No way." Bobby laughed again.

"I know that." Alex marveled at his sudden confidence. "Oh, this is perfect." He was leaning towards the edge of the cliff again; Alex felt herself grow anxious. When he came back towards her she let out a breath she barely knew she'd been holding. "We should come here more often." He paused. "You know, I'm just thinking. We should arrest McGarry. I mean, we could go back and get our things and then arrest him. I know that's bypassing asking–"

"Not to mention the key bit where we get a warrant," Alex added.

"Oh, well." Bobby gestured expansively out towards the lake. "It's obvious that he was responsible."

"I don't follow." Alex gave her partner a questioning look. "I know the guy's a jerk, but I'm not sure he engineered this–"

"Oh yes, he did."

"You're talking about a high-level city official here."

"Precisely." Bobby waved her objections aside. "It's a web. They all have a common goal, conspiracy at the least. I'll explain later."

"You know we can't get him now, right? Later. We have to wait."

"So you don't believe me, do you?" Alex sighed.

"I don't know, Bobby. You might be right. You have a good intuition on these things." It would be better if she wasn't patronizing. "I know that you wouldn't arrest a man without a warrant, though." Bobby was silent; for a moment all Alex heard was the sound of leaves and branches crunching under his feet as he paced.

"I'm sure it's him!" He paused again, picking up a stone and hurling it at a tree. Alex watched him take a deep breath; then he seemed to calm, a bit. "We'll wait." She smiled. He was walking such a thin line, dancing between delusion and reality – but he was doing it brilliantly. Still, it had to stop; there was no question about that. It had to stop before it truly got dangerous. And she'd make sure it did stop. Bobby was her partner. She wasn't going to let anything, or anyone, take him away from her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Into the eye of the storm, no sign or omen. Make it right, or fall to the other side, where fields are burning. From the day you're born, you'll always hit the ground running. _

(Quattro – Calexico)

It was almost eight o'clock. Bobby was sitting on the sofa, attempting to watch a documentary on the History Channel. It was something about the transcontinental railroad. The detective got up and began pacing, watching as some expert began explaining the railroad's historical significance. It was just the sort of thing that would usually interest him, but tonight he couldn't seem to concentrate on it. Anyway, it was almost eight o'clock; that was when Alex said she would call him. Bobby checked his watch again. If she didn't call him, he'd call her. Possibilities raced through his mind. Perhaps she was afraid to call him because Deakins had given her bad news. Perhaps she was too busy and had already forgotten about him. Perhaps she'd gotten into a car accident on the way home. Perhaps she'd–

"Hello?" Bobby yanked the phone out of the handle after its first ring. "Eames?"

"Hey there." His partner's voice was cool and clear. "How're you? How was your day off?"

"I'm – I'm fine. Did you tell Deakins? What did he say?" Bobby paused for a moment. "And – and did you check the files? You know, the ones I told you about – the ones about McGarry. Did you?" Bobby tapped his fingers against the side of the table, anxiously awaiting Alex's response.

"All right. Let me answer one question at a time, here." Alex yawned. She was still exhausted from the past week. Between having to worry about Bobby at work and his phone calls in the middle of the night, she hadn't had much time to rest. "First of all, I did tell Deakins. He asked where you were, so I pulled him aside for a while and explained it to him as best I could."

"You – you told him what I wanted you to tell him, right?"

"Yep. I–"

"What'd he say?"

"I was just getting to that. He began by telling me that he wanted you to know that his biggest concern was for your health. He also said that there's no way you should worry about losing your job. He's going to work something out. So long as you take care of yourself and stay in touch with Corinne it should be fine." Alex had a feeling that it wasn't the best idea to go into detail at the moment.

"What about McGarry?" Alex sighed. He certainly wasn't wasting any time.

"Well, I got the files, as per your instructions."

"Have you looked through them yet?"

"No, but–"

"Can I come get them? I want to look though them. I'll show you. It – it won't take long."

"If you–"

"Wait!" Bobby whirled around, nearly knocking the phone to the floor in the process. He peered outside, staring out the window towards the street. Cars were streaming by slowly; the apartments on the other side glowed with steady golden light. It was magnificent, Bobby thought. But there was also no way he could go out there. The night beckoned to him, drawing him forth; only a strange, sourceless fear held him back. If he went outside, he'd run into people. They'd look at him. They'd stare at him. They'd follow him with their eyes as he walked. Bobby's gaze darted back to the safety of his apartment. There was no way he could go out alone. There was just no way. "Can you come here? Can you bring them? You can stay here, if you want. I'll make you dinner."

"Bobby, I already ate."

"Oh." Back in her apartment, Alex leaned back in her armchair and closed her eyes. Bobby seemed to be entirely unaware of the fact that she, too, had needs. She felt like he was wrapped in a whirlwind composed of his own thoughts and feelings and couldn't see beyond it, couldn't see through to her or anybody else anymore. "You don't want to come, then?" The urgency in his tone was impossible to miss. "Alex, if we don't hurry he'll get away with it! He'll – he'll get away with it." Bobby paused. "You have to let me come tomorrow. You have to. I'll solve the case. I mean, I've already solved it. I just have to show you. Just – just – you have to let me show you."

"All right." Alex stood up, reluctantly. Frankly, she wasn't too happy having to think of Bobby alone in his apartment in such an agitated state. "But Bobby – you've got to listen to me for a second. I can't keep doing this. I'm completely exhausted. You may not be tired, but I am. So if I can't always come, it's not that I have anything against you. I just can't keep up with you."

"If you let me come back this wouldn't be a problem." Alex felt a headache coming on. She didn't want to have to humor him. If she was in his position, she wouldn't want her partner to lie to her. She'd want honesty.

"I don't think that's a good discussion to have right now. And I don't know if it's a discussion you should be having with me anyway. I think when you come back is up to you and Corinne. It is not up to me." Alex paused. "As for the files, I'll bring them over. I can't promise you I'll stay long. I need to get to bed. But I'll bring them, and you can read them over. How's that?"

"Okay. See you soon." Bobby hung up the phone and walked back over to the sofa. Alex was coming. It would be all right. Alex was coming with the files and he'd find the answers and prove it to her and it would be all right. Bobby leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Every second, he felt himself swing between feeling an immense fascination for the world and being frustrated that he could not pin it down, make it take shape. Bobby stood up again and picked up his binder, which he opened to a blank page. Maybe if he wrote them down, the thoughts would go away; maybe if he spilled them out onto the page, they'd stop pushing each other around in his head.

He had been writing for a few minutes when a knock on the door brought him to his feet again.

"Hello!" He ushered Alex into the room, removing her coat and placing it on top of the sofa. "You – you should sit down. It's kind of messy," he added, gesturing around at the cluttered apartment.

"I can see that," Alex replied glibly. "What's with the boxes?"

"Packages."

"I see." Alex navigated her way around the brown boxes and sat down on the sofa. "So, shall we start?" Alex handed Bobby a manila folder.

"Is this it?"

"Yep," Alex replied, watching as he made some space on the floor and lay down on the carpet, spreading the papers out before him. Bobby scrutinized the forms, frowning. There was a connection; he had seen it before. Now he just had to put it back together. Bobby felt the facts flow together and then spread themselves out again. He had to be right. He had never been so absolutely sure, so perfectly confident about his conclusions before. Alex just had to trust him! All he was asking for was a little trust. "Alex?" His partner turned towards him. "You have to believe me. You – you have to believe me about this. I _know _that I'm right." Bobby got to his feet and walked over to his stereo. The apartment was too quiet, too still; a little music would do a world of good. He scanned his collection, chose a CD, and stuck it in the player.

"What're you putting on?" Alex hoped it wouldn't be dance music. After that ride in the car she'd had enough of that to last her quite a while.

"You'll see." Bobby hit play and the beat burst through the small apartment. There was something vaguely tropical about the song; it had always reminded Bobby of traveling. As he listened to it now he could almost feel himself floating up on the sound waves themselves as they spiraled out, shaking the books on the stereo's shelf. Watching him, Alex sighed heavily. She had never seen anyone immerse themselves so fully and completely in a piece of music. The song wasn't even particularly good, really. And played at that volume, it was more irritating than anything else. Bobby whirled around. "I'm turning off the lights."

"All–"

"It's too bright, you see. And – and when the lights are off you can see out into the street and watch the car headlights." Alex nodded. At least he wasn't insisting on solving the case anymore. Instead, the papers lay, forgotten, on the floor. "I want to go out. I want to go somewhere. I want to travel. Do you want to go somewhere, Alex?" Bobby spread out his arms, stretching. He was walking a tightrope between extreme confusion and perfect clarity, balancing precariously between the two. So long as the music was there it would be all right. So long as Alex was there it would be all right. So long as the sudden joy he felt didn't turn into frustration it would be all right.

"Bobby?"

"What?"

"I think I might have to get going soon. It's getting kind of late." Alex headed towards the papers and began to reorganize them. She felt strangely alone in the room with Bobby. She was sitting there, tired from work and hoping to go home; he was elsewhere, seeing something in the music she couldn't begin to understand.

"No!" Bobby was right beside her again. "Don't go! You – you should stay and listen to this album. We can work on the case! It's not late. It's really not. And you have to tell me about tomorrow. I want to come back." In the back of his mind, Bobby knew it wouldn't work. He _couldn't _work; he couldn't even think straight. "Alex, please don't go." Alex put the papers back on the table, trying to find Bobby's silhouette in the shadowy apartment.

"I'll stay another hour." The thought of leaving him when he was so obviously scared to be alone was worrying, but she just couldn't go on; she had to sleep. Worse still was the fact that he kept insisting on returning.

"That's good." Bobby sat down next to her. "I – I don't know, Alex." How could he express what he thought and felt if he didn't even understand it himself? The closest comparison he could come up with related to rafting. It was like trying to balance on a raft spinning down rapid after rapid. Just when he thought he was safe the water would swing him around once again. "I'm – I'm worried." He paused. "I really do want to come tomorrow."

"I want you to come tomorrow, too," Alex began. "But – and I only say this because I respect you and don't want to talk down to you – I really don't think it's such a good idea, right now." Bobby shifted uneasily beside her.

"It was fine before. You let me come before. Even if – I – I can still do this, Alex." Bobby wasn't sure who he was trying to convince anymore. "This – it's the only thing that – that I _can _do. I have to do this. I have to." He got up again and walked over to the stereo; as he leaned against the speakers he could feel the music humming through them. "I'm going to lose my job. I'm going to lose my job, Alex." The confidence that had sustained him was cracking like thin ice. "I know you said you spoke to him but it's – it's not going to – I don't _know_." Bobby struggled to concentrate. His mind was feeding him static. He didn't hear voices; he knew it was all internal. None of it was from the outside. Yet he couldn't pinpoint where the thoughts were coming from; he couldn't make them go away; he couldn't make it stop. "What am I supposed to do, Alex? What am I supposed to _do_?"

"I don't know." Alex spoke softly, her words small and serious. "I wish I did, Bobby. I wish I knew." She searched for a solution, for something to suggest, something to do. "For the time being, what would you say if I asked you to help clean up your apartment? We'll do it together. Maybe you'll feel better if it's a bit neater around here." Bobby's ability to be both obsessively organized and incredibly chaotic had always puzzled her. He kept his binder with him constantly; he worked brilliantly with maps and charts and diagrams. No matter how hard he tried, though, he was always losing things, pushing papers off his desk onto the ground, letting forms accumulate in uneven piles on the office cabinets. When he did clean, he did it perfectly; when he didn't, the mess would spread with alarming rapidity. "So, how about it?" Bobby paused.

"Okay."

"We need the lights, though."

"I know." Squinting, Bobby turned them back on. The apartment really was a disaster. Alex was right. It would be better once they fixed it.

"All right." Alex approached Bobby carefully. For all his usual obliviousness to the concept of personal space, she'd noted that being close to others made him even more edgy lately. "Now, I'll start on this side. You start over there." She looked around at the brown boxes. "I think we should stack those in one corner." Alex counted them, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you buy, anyway?"

"I – I'm not sure. Books, mostly. Some other things as well. Do you want me to open them?"

"I think we'd better save it for another time. We've got enough on our hands as it is." Alex strode over to the other side of the room and began picking scattered books and magazines off the floor. "I'd rather not be here all night if at all possible, so we should get started here."

"Okay." Bobby decided to begin with the table. There had always been something calming about cleaning, especially now that Alex was there helping him. He liked the small, simple decisions. Would he put the papers on the left side or the right? Would he move the potted plant onto the windowsill, or would he keep it where it was? Bobby took a deep breath. He was shaky. His thoughts were shaky; even his hands were trembling. But he wouldn't think about it. He had to rearrange the items on the shelves. That was what he had to think about.

"It looks better already." Alex was smiling at him. "Before long this place will be spotless."

"There's a new painting, too." Bobby had bought it on an online auction; it was in one of the packages, probably. "I – I think it would look good here."

"In the boxes?" Bobby nodded.

"We'll put it up when we finish with everything else." Alex glanced at the boxes again, hoping that Bobby had the money to afford all his purchases. It seemed like an awful lot. "Anyway, Bobby," she continued, "I want you to know that you won't lose your job over this, okay? I promise."

"You can't promise that." Bobby sat down, sweeping debris up from the floor with his hands.

"And this from the man whose favorite thing to do is make promises that might be impossible to keep? I don't think so! I can and I do promise it. Got that?" Bobby was silent for a moment. There was the music. There was Alex. There was his job, which he wasn't going to lose. They held him back; they wouldn't let him fall though.

"Okay." Bobby leaned back against the wall and yawned. He was sleepy, all of a sudden, just like the night before. An hour after he'd taken the stuff Corinne had prescribed him he'd ended up falling asleep at the kitchen table. It was strange, as if the speed of his racing thoughts was battling against medicines that were supposed to calm him, to let him sleep. Strange…

"Tired?" Alex looked towards her partner.

"Woozy." Bobby closed his eyes. The stuff made him dizzy. He had thought it wasn't going to work for a while. Maybe it just took an hour or two to have an effect.

"We can do this another time." Alex squatted down beside him. It was kind of funny, actually. He'd gotten tired so abruptly! He was practically falling asleep on the floor. "Hello, Bobby?"

"What?" He opened his eyes wearily, searching for the source of the sound.

"Over here. You okay?" Alex peered at him carefully. He seemed sort of disoriented.

"Just dizzy." His partner held out her hand. "That medication makes me dizzy," he mumbled, holding on as he stood up slowly. "Lets me sleep, though."

"That's good." Alex pushed a package aside, clearing space to let her partner through. He let go of her hand, rubbing his eyes. "Anyway, I guess I'd better get going and let you get some sleep." Bobby nodded.

"Are you coming again?"

"Of course I'll come again! Maybe not tomorrow, but as soon as I can." Bobby was leaning against the wall. "Go sleep."

"Okay." He headed into his room; Alex walked back and picked up the forms she'd brought.

"Wait, Bobby?" He'd left the door to his room open. "Do you want me to leave you with a copy of these?" He didn't respond. "Bobby?" She peered in. He was already asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

_Everything means nothing to me, everything means nothing to me, everything means nothing to me. _

(Everything Means Nothing to Me – Elliott Smith)

"I talked to Deakins again today." Alex leaned back on Bobby's sofa. She didn't have the time to visit him every day, but she did her best to come as much as she could.

"You did?" Bobby was seated on a chair across from her. Alex looked at him carefully. He looked worn out, weary. At first, she'd been glad to see the frenzy start to fade. His gaze had dimmed; the wild look had disappeared, and the strange glimmer in his eyes had gone. He had stopped calling her and leaving incoherent messages about the most random topics; he had stopped wandering about the city at all hours of the night; he had stopped the compulsive shopping that had made Alex want to simply take away his credit card. As the days passed, though, she'd begun to become concerned again. He hadn't just become calmer; he'd stopped caring. In the first few weeks he'd been home, her greatest worry had been that he'd get himself into trouble somehow. Despite a few close calls, however, it had been fine. Corinne was keeping an eye on him, she knew; between her phone calls, Alex's visits, and Bobby's ability to pull himself back just at the last minute it had worked out.

Lately, her biggest worry was that he never even left his apartment. At least his excitement had seemed like an extension of his usual intensity. Sure, it had been unnatural; at times she'd found it almost terrifying. But she'd only seen the apathy a few times before, and it had never been as bad as this. Alex sighed, bringing herself back to the matter at hand. Perhaps if she could convince him that he was missed at work he'd perk up a bit.

"Yep," she replied. "And he wanted me to tell you that he's looking forward to your return." A few days ago they'd decided that Bobby could go back to work whenever he felt ready to. Alex had expected him to jump at the chance. But, for some reason, he hadn't…

"If – if he's really that sure that he still wants me around, why didn't he take the time to talk to me himself?" Bobby rubbed his eyes, yawning. Even the prospect of returning no longer seemed appealing. Deakins would never take him seriously again. And for all her talk of her respect for him, Alex probably wouldn't trust him either after having heard him insist that various people were tapping his phone lines and tracking his movements – not to mention the bits where he'd come to completely convoluted and utterly nonsensical conclusions about their cases. He sighed. Could he even trust himself, after all that? _Should _he even trust himself? "I don't – I don't know, Alex. I don't know that this is even such a good idea anymore."

"You don't know that this is such a good idea anymore? What do you mean by that?"

"I just – I mean that I'm not – not sure – I don't know." Bobby shook his head. "Forget it."

"Well, if you need some more time off, that's perfectly understandable. We'll wait. We miss you, though," Alex continued. She could barely believe it. For as long as she'd known Bobby, his work had meant the world to him. And now? Now all he wanted to do was sit around his apartment watching television or staring out the window. Alex sighed. It had been far more obvious, before, that something was wrong; this change was more subtle and, in a strange way, more frustrating. Sure, Alex had done her research. She knew. He'd been manic for a while; now he was getting increasingly depressed. It was only natural. That was the way it worked. Still, she couldn't help wondering why he just didn't _stop_ it already. Before, he'd been uncontrollable; now, it just seemed like he was sulking.

"Oh." Bobby glanced at Alex for a second and then stared back down at the floor. There was no point in him returning; he had no credibility anymore. Worse still, there was no way he could be of any help. He couldn't concentrate; he was constantly exhausted; all he could think about was how inadequate he was, how stupid, how worthless for having allowed this to happen, for not being strong enough to just go on. Going to the grocery store was a struggle. Investigating a case would be impossible. "Maybe – maybe I should just take another week off. I'm kind of tired."

"So you're human after all." Alex attempted a smile, watching as Bobby got to his feet and walked over to his stereo. He'd been playing a slow, melancholy piano piece on repeat for hours now. "Looking for a change of music? Maybe some ABBA would cheer you up. And I've still got that dance music mix in my car."

"I think I'll pass on that one." Bobby changed the song and then returned to his seat, almost wishing that Alex would just leave him alone. He didn't have anything to say to her, anyway. He'd just sound stupid, self-pitying – and the last thing he wanted to do was drive his only friend away by annoying her. She probably found him irksome enough as it was. He never had anything interesting to say, anymore.

"All right," Alex replied awkwardly. His voice had been flat; she hadn't even caught the slightest hint of a smile. It just didn't make sense. He was seeing a psychiatrist; she was prescribing him the appropriate medication. Why was this still happening? Shouldn't it have been fixed by now? Taking a deep breath, she went on. "So, want to go out for dinner? I haven't eaten. Have you?" He shook his head. "And don't even tell me you're not hungry. We're going out."

"We could–"

"Nope. We're going out." Alex was trying her best to keep her spirits up despite the fact that his sadness was hovering about her like a storm cloud, dragging her down as well. In truth, being around Bobby was becoming tiring. "Have you even left your apartment at all so far this week?"

"I went to the grocery store." Bobby shrugged. He didn't want to have to go out to a restaurant and sit listening to horrid music, surrounded by laughing, smiling people. At best, he'd see a strange, tragic beauty in it. He'd watch the street below for hours, peering down at the schoolchildren as they ran on home and the mothers with strollers and the young professionals pulling their shiny cars into the garage. Every sight seemed so painfully real he could barely stand it. For some reason, he'd always loved the sound of sirens. As the ambulances and police cars passed he'd latch onto them, listening. But what had once been an interesting demonstration of the Doppler Shift had become a slow, desolate wail.

Even that was better than the alternative, though; at least when he was feeling desperate, he was feeling _something_. Most of the time he felt surrounded by a numbness so complete that he wondered why he even bothered to get out of bed. For weeks the world had been so colorful he'd felt blinded by it. Brilliance had burst forth from every corner; energy, excitement and euphoria had flared through him like exploding fireworks. Sure, he'd wanted it to stop sometimes; sure, he'd hated the anger and panic and paranoia. Now, he'd ask for it back in a second, just to make the all-encompassing grayness go away.

"Bobby?" Alex was standing in front of him, coat in hand. "Come on. I really think it might do you good to go out. Right?" He shrugged.

"I'm fine, Alex. Just – I'm just tired." It was true, too. Though he wished he could sleep all day, the only thing that really let him rest was the medication. Other than that, Bobby didn't even know why he bothered to take it. It didn't seem to be doing him any good. Corinne said it would take a while, but how long would he have to wait? And how did she know for sure that it wasn't that he was just too weak, too useless? He wasn't manic-depressive; he was inherently flawed in a far more fundamental way, and it _was _his fault. It was…

"Let's go." Alex tugged at his sweatshirt, urging him to his feet. "I know a good place a half hour from here. And don't tell me you don't like driving. Bring your music, if you want; we can listen to it in the car. You up for it?"

"Okay." Why did she even bother? It wouldn't work. It wouldn't help. And he didn't even deserve it. He deserved to be deserted. He wasn't worth it.

"Good." Alex grinned. Bobby stepped over to the closet and pulled out his coat before heading for door, which he held open for his partner. "Thank you." Alex waited for him to catch up; then they went down the stairs together. Alex sighed. She couldn't help but notice how loosely her partner's clothes fit. Before, he'd told her that he was always too nervous to eat. He just wasn't hungry. His ability to keep going at such a high energy level without food or sleep had at once frightened and fascinated her. As far as she knew, he hadn't really been eating much lately, either. He was going to end up making himself sick. "This way, Bobby." He followed her to the car.

"Alex?"

"What?" Alex paused, turning towards him.

"You – you shouldn't do this."

"You don't want to go?" Alex pulled up the brake again, keeping the car on so that they'd stay warm.

"No, I don't mean – I mean in general. I just – I want to apologize to you. You're doing all of this and it's just – it's not right. You have better things to do and this isn't worth it. It's not." Alex fiddled with the keys, trying to hide the way his words hurt her. He was pushing her away. He wasn't doing it out of anger, but he was still pushing her away and she couldn't understand why. It had been like this the last few times she'd come. He'd tell her it wasn't necessary; he'd apologize again and again. Alex frowned.

"Do you want me to leave?" It had been a long day. She was tired. If he wanted her to go, she'd rather that he just got straight to the point.

"No, that's not – I – I don't want you to go."

"Then why do you keep trying to push me away?" Alex took a deep breath. "You keep telling me that I don't have to do this. I know that I don't have to do this. I want to do this. But if you don't want me to visit you, I won't."

"I don't want to push you away. It isn't you, Alex." Bobby spoke softly, his gaze peering out the window into the street. "I just – I feel – I want to apologize to you. I don't deserve what you – what you're doing for me. I don't deserve this. I want to make it up to you, but I don't know how. I want to apologize for everything. I want – I want to apologize for the fact that I'm even here. I – I feel guilty." Alex looked down at the steering wheel. His voice shook with sadness, and for a minute she felt utterly and completely helpless before the shadow that surrounded him. What could she do? No matter what she said, he'd twist her words and use them to berate himself. How was it that he couldn't see how wrong he was?

"You know that none of that is true." His self-deprecation annoyed her sometimes, but right now it worried her more than anything else. "Right, Bobby? You know it's not true. You don't have to apologize for anything. None of this has been your fault. This isn't trouble for me. I enjoy seeing you." Bobby sighed. She was lying. How could she possibly enjoy seeing him? He couldn't even stand himself anymore. How could anybody else tolerate it? "And you don't have to make it up to me, okay? I just want you to get better."

"You say that like I'm just sick or something."

"You _are_!" Alex placed a hand on his shoulder; he turned towards her. "I can't believe this, Bobby. You have told me this so many times. Why can't you apply it to yourself? I know that you're smarter than this. I know that you understand what this _means_. It's not you."

"What if it is?"

"What do you mean, what if it is?"

"What if I'm just – what if it _is _me? What if I'm just not trying hard enough? What if I just – I just became lazy, stupid, weak?" Alex sighed.

"So you don't believe Corinne?"

"She might have made a mistake." Alex turned back towards the window. Why was he denying it, now? Was he just doing it to blame himself and feel even worse? What in the world for? Or did he sincerely and truly believe that he was to blame and couldn't see it otherwise?

"She didn't." Alex kept her voice firm, authoritative. "And I'm no expert on this stuff, but I can assure you that it's not you, okay? You're the authority on psychology here. Do I really need to tell you that you're depressed? This isn't you."

"How can you be sure?" His voice sounded so small, suddenly.

"I can't. Nobody can ever really be sure." Alex cringed. It wasn't as if platitudes were going to do much good. "You just need to trust me on this one." She took a deep breath. "Come on, Bobby. Stop beating yourself up over this! You've got enough to deal with as it is without blaming yourself for something that's beyond your control. You know it." She frowned for a second. "The only thing I can't understand is why that stuff Corinne's giving you isn't helping. You shouldn't have to feel like this. I mean – shouldn't you tell her that whatever it is she's giving you isn't doing anything? It doesn't seem like it's working for you. Maybe something else will. Right?" She paused. "I hope I'm not being too intrusive about this, or anything." Bobby shrugged.

"Doesn't matter." He sighed. "It'll – it'll be all right. It takes a while. This is also the inevitable consequence of what came before. The idea is that if you prevent that, this won't happen either."

"Oh." Alex paused, looking towards her partner. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything."

"I know that. But you're my partner, and my friend, and this is a lousy thing that's happened to you. I wish I could make it go away, but I can't."

"So do I." Bobby's voice was shaking again. Alex reached out towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder again. "So do I." It felt good to say it, to think of it that way and not have to hate himself for that on top of everything else. Maybe it was self-pitying of him, but that had suddenly ceased to matter. Bobby leaned forward, resting his head on the dashboard. He felt awful. That was the truth. And he wanted nothing more than for it all to go _away_…

"I am not mad at you," Alex whispered, almost afraid to break the silence. This was as close as she'd ever gotten to seeing her partner cry. He didn't cry, really. There were never any tears. His eyes just overflowed with feeling, all on their own. Alex cleared her throat. The restaurant was going to close. In her partnership with Bobby, she'd always been the eminently practical one; he'd dealt with profiling personalities, analyzing emotions. Alex was pragmatic. She'd be the first to admit that she didn't know how to respond, that she didn't know what to say. "Bobby, I hate to say this, but the restaurant's going to close." He looked up slowly.

"You still want to go?"

"Of course." Bobby's eyes warmed towards his partner, and Alex smiled. Perhaps practicality was just what he needed right now, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

_There's beauty in the breakdown._

(Let Go – Frou Frou)

Detective Bobby Goren closed the car door behind him and stepped out into the street.

"Well, that was that." His partner hopped out of the driver's seat and joined him. "She's not going to tell us anything." Bobby nodded, waiting for her before walking back towards their building. It was almost eight o'clock. "Anyway," Alex continued, "I think we're done for today. We'll have to start with the phone calls tomorrow." She turned towards him, grinning. "It's good to have you back, Bobby."

"Thanks." His reply was automatic. In truth, her words didn't even register with him. He'd felt strangely detached the entire day, as if he'd been drifting through a dream. They'd investigated a crime scene; they'd interviewed witnesses; they'd spoken to the victim's family. Bobby sighed, holding the door open for his partner and then following her inside. Alex hadn't even mentioned his absence until a few seconds ago, but he'd felt her gaze upon him all day. It had by turns irritated and encouraged him. Was she nervous that he'd make a mistake? Or was she just trying to be supportive? He wasn't sure.

"Looks like we're the last ones to get back." Bobby glanced at the empty desks around them, yawning. One thing he was sure of was that he was exhausted. The day hadn't been especially long or particularly trying, but he was tired nonetheless. "So, do you need a ride home?" Bobby shook his head.

"No thanks. I think I'll stay a few more minutes." The ride home would be awkward, to say the least. Alex would be torn between continuing to act as if nothing had happened and asking him how he felt; he'd be sitting there silently, counting the minutes until he could go home and fall asleep.

"All right." Alex gathered up her things, watching him fondly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Sure." Bobby leaned back in his chair, watching as his partner disappeared down the hallway. He felt strangely paralyzed there, at once unable to stay and too tired to leave. A few months ago, he'd been too scared to leave his apartment. Everything was just too bright, too bold, too threatening; every sound had been as shrill as a siren. A few weeks ago, he'd been too sad to leave his apartment. Everything was washed through in an emptiness so vast and devastating he'd just wanted to slowly dissolve, to disappear altogether. He was both scared and sad now, but the feeling was entirely different. It wasn't overwhelming. It wasn't urgent. It wasn't even intense. Instead, it was small, subtle, and almost impossible to define. Bobby closed his eyes, concentrating. What was making him so uneasy? The day hadn't gone badly, had it? It had been fine.

Bobby sighed deeply. The medication made him sleepy. It overcompensated, slowing his thoughts down so much he felt stupid. He wondered, sometimes, whether or not his quickness before had been linked with what was to come. It was almost as if the things he'd liked best about himself had rebelled. First they'd become so exaggerated he could barely stand it; then they'd disappeared altogether. The only way to stop them was to smother them in medication that made everything dull, dreary. Was this the way everybody else saw the world? Had he been special before? Or had he merely gotten accustomed to a state that wasn't natural, even for him? That was what Corinne had told him. You were manic for so long that going back to a normal state is going to feel like a let-down. Anything would be better than this, he'd replied. That's because you're depressed now, she'd told him. You'll feel much better at first once you come out of this, but after that you shouldn't be surprised if you miss it. Many patients do. It's not uncommon.

It's not uncommon, she had said. It wasn't uncommon to feel as though you'd had to witness the slow disintegration of your own personality? It wasn't uncommon to feel as though you'd had something special, something utterly unique, taken away from you? It wasn't uncommon to feel as though you were being drawn towards something that had almost destroyed your life? Bobby got to his feet and began to pack up his bag. He'd walk home, tonight; perhaps that would help. Mechanically, the tall detective buttoned up his coat, put on a hat and stepped out the door. You shouldn't be surprised if you miss it, she'd said. Miss what? Miss an artificial state of euphoria induced by a chemical imbalance in the brain, or miss feeling alert, awake, _alive_? What if they were really one and the same? What then?

Bobby shut the door behind him and stepped outside. It was cold and clear, the sort of day when the wind cut straight through his warmest winter coat and slapped at his skin. Maybe walking home would be a bit much. He could always walk to Times Square and take the subway from there, instead. It would be easier. And he hadn't been to Times Square in weeks. When he was at his most excited, he'd imagined himself there, surrounded by the shimmering lights. Sometimes he'd even tried to go, but he'd never made it; he'd always gotten terrified somewhere along the way. The people around him had always been about to attack him; the sounds and sights had always been too sharp, too grating. Bobby pulled on his gloves, shivering. Now he could finally go. It wasn't even too far off, really; it wouldn't take more than half an hour to get there.

Bobby walked quickly, weaving his way through the crowds. The streets were overflowing with people. There were commuters on their way home from work; there were college students out with their friends; there were families on a visit, cameras in hand. Bobby loved photography. He'd taken his camera with him once on one of his excursions out into the city in the middle of the night; he'd used up roll after roll, taking pictures of everything in sight. Sometimes he'd used the flash, as he was supposed to; sometimes he'd been in such a hurry he'd forgotten to turn it on. When he got the pictures developed he'd been surprised. The ones with the flash had been dull, ordinary; the ones he'd taken manually had been blurry but bursting forth with light. They'd been beautiful. The detective shook his head, sighing. You shouldn't be surprised if you miss it, she had said. You shouldn't be surprised.

When he arrived Bobby considered calling Alex, for a second. She could help him sort it out, couldn't she? He felt the cell phone in his pocket and pulled it out, holding it in his hand. Then he wearily returned it to its proper place. There was nothing Alex could do for him. She had already done more than enough. Bobby stared up at the fluorescent lights, at the steel and glass shine of the skyscrapers. Finally, he maneuvered his way onto an island in the middle of the road and leaned against the side of the visitor's information center. Feelings were flowing through him faster than the crowds of people were pushing past each other, faces peering forward into the night.

It hadn't been fair. That was it. For a minute Bobby tried to remind himself of his mother. He'd gone to visit her two days ago, and to see Corinne. Now that he was better she'd let him see her, too. It would be better if she never knew, she said. Not that she was likely to notice anyway. Bobby had watched the world shift and take a new shape before him; Bobby's mother didn't even see this world at all. It wasn't as if she'd know. Bobby closed his eyes for a second, picturing her. She'd been locked up for years now. That would never happen to him, would it? Sure, Corinne had wanted him to stay overnight a couple times; sure, he could still end up in a hospital if he wasn't careful. But it was different, wasn't it? Compared to her, he was lucky.

You shouldn't be surprised, she'd said. Bobby realized he was breathing fast, struggling for air. It wasn't fair. What had happened to her wasn't fair, but what had happened to him wasn't fair either. How could he work when he was so drugged up that he could barely stay awake? How could he live without the light and color, the magnificent, soaring excitement? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_! Bobby held a gloved hand up to his face just in time to stop a solitary tear from trickling down his cheek. Shocked, he hurriedly looked around. He never cried. Even when it had been at its worst, he'd found that he couldn't. He'd burned himself intentionally, broken glass, destroyed his own possessions – all of it in the hope that the pain would make something within him break so that the tears would come out. They hadn't.

So why now? Bobby shuddered. Times Square was spread out all around him. Each second was full of patterns, light and sound and color. Light and sound, light and sound and color. Everything was fine and everything was finished and he was standing in the middle of Times Square and he was crying, without knowing why. You shouldn't be surprised, she'd said. You shouldn't be surprised. Bobby was shaking harder now. At least he'd picked Times Square as the spot to break down and cry in public. In Times Square, it was nearly impossible to be too strange. That was the marvelous thing about the city. It accepted everyone.

The events of the past few months were flowing out around him, at once unreal and even sharper than reality itself. What was he supposed to do now? What was supposed to happen now? He hardly knew who he was anymore. Everything had been shattered, shot to pieces. Before it had happened he'd had his profession and his skill at it and his stability, however precarious; while it was happening he'd had the emotions themselves. And now? Now he had neither, really. Now he had nothing…

Bobby pulled out his phone again. He had Corinne's number. She'd wanted him to call when he'd been home, unable to get out of bed. She'd wanted him to call when he'd gotten too frenzied, too frantic. She'd made him promise to call in the event of an emergency. What qualified as an emergency? Surely not this. What would he say? What would he ask her? Would he ask her why this had to happen? Would he ask her what he was supposed to do now? Would he just listen and hope she said something right? He could call Alex. He could call Alex, too.

"Sir, you can't stand there." A policeman had approached and was watching him warily. Bobby nodded and stepped silently out of the way. It was better to wander, anyway; that way it wouldn't be as cold. Beside him, a couple chattered loudly about whether or not it was too late to go to a movie. Behind him, a young woman with a camera was leaning over to take a picture of a yellow cab. In front of him the square itself hummed with energy, life. What was he supposed to do now? Bobby let the crowd carry him, following the lights and they turned from green to yellow to red. What was he supposed to do now? He flicked open his phone and hit the speed dial.

"Hello?" Bobby took a deep breath.

"I'm in Times Square."

"You are?" Alex sounded slightly perplexed. "Is–"

"Thank you." That was what he was supposed to do, Bobby realized. He was supposed to speak to the people he cared about. "Thank you. Thank you for everything. And – and I'm sorry I was slow today. I'm so slow now. I – I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"You're tired." Alex's voice was crisp. "It's okay. It's okay, Bobby. I'm glad you're back." Was that all she had to say? Bobby held on the phone, clutching it like a lifeline.

"I want to thank you and – and I want to apologize, I–"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bobby." For a moment, Bobby was sure she'd been about to hang up. I'll see you tomorrow. In a way, it had been enough. There would be a tomorrow. He still had his job and he still had Times Square and there was still something to stand on, to start with. Wasn't there? "Wait, Bobby?" She sounded less certain now. "Is everything okay?" He paused.

"I think it is." The light turned red; the white walk sign was glowing towards him from the other side. Bobby took a step forward. "I think it is. I think it will be."


End file.
